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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761683">A Caged Bird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chai_Teafling/pseuds/Chai_Teafling'>Chai_Teafling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caleb is the "princess", Molly is the "prince", Other, Pre-Canon, Self-Determination, They/Them Pronouns for Mollymauk Tealeaf, Trans Character, alternative backstories, please read the notes, princess in a tower AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:55:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chai_Teafling/pseuds/Chai_Teafling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bren hasn't seen the outside world save from the perspective of his tower window for many years. The view he has of the gardens of the Soltryce Academy is beautiful, but monotonous. He watches the sunset every night, savouring the small time he has to himself outside of when Trent Ikithon uses him as a tool, but longs for more.</p><p>One day, a carnival comes to town and a curious tiefling happens upon his tower. When they climb up to talk to him, Bren's world is turned upside-down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Caged Bird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this with the mind that Caleb is a trans man, 'Bren' being the name he was given at birth when his parents thought they'd had a daughter. He/him pronouns are used for Caleb throughout the entire story, but Bren is used as his name for a significant portion of the beginning. He chooses the new name during the course of the story.</p><p>The intention with this story is that Caleb's journey to move from Evocation to Transmutation magic parallels his journey to present as who he truly is. This means that during the time when the story takes place, he has not transitioned in any way. There is a small description of him disliking his voice, and he covers his chest with his knees during the scene.</p><p>If you think this will trigger dysphoria, please be wary. Otherwise, this aspect of Caleb does not feature prominently in the story. It is small enough that you can omit it and decide to read him as cis if you want to.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bren looked out his single window overlooking the immaculate gardens of the Academy grounds. The sun was beginning to dip low above the far-away roofs of the city of Rexxentrum, and was casting the sky in beautiful shades of purple. It was Bren’s favourite time of day: sunset always provided something interesting to look at, and also heralded the beginning of his only true time alone. His days were not his own, his participation in various activities compulsory by command of his master, Trent Ikithon.</p><p>Master Ikithon had chosen Bren at a young age, seeing his potential in his aptitude for the arcane and deciding to mold him in his image. It had started out innocently enough: private lessons alongside Bren’s regular classes, a private room instead of the student dormitories, but had quickly escalated until Bren was trapped here.</p><p>The room itself wasn’t so bad. It had a lovely view of the city, stale though that had become after years without change, and it was always kept well-stocked with books and paper. The sheets were changed and washed by staff, not that Bren ever saw them, and he didn’t want for anything.</p><p>Or, rather, he didn’t want for anything in the sense of physical necessities.</p><p>Bren longed to see the outside world again. It had been nearly a decade since he’d been permitted to leave the Academy grounds at all, and many years since he’d been allowed to go anywhere without his escort. These days, his movements were entirely decided by Ikithon. In the mornings someone would come fetch him — usually Eadwulf, who was stern but warm — and he would be brought to some room or another for whatever Trent had in store for him that day.</p><p>The first spell Bren had ever cast had summoned flames, his namesake flickering in his cupped hands as his parents had oohed and ahhed. They had been so proud. Going to the Academy was the single biggest honor for a child of a village like theirs, and that year not one but three of the village’s children had been touched by the spark of magic.</p><p>Ikithon had seen that small flame in Bren and latched onto it, steering him toward the school of Evocation. The flames did come easily to him and at first he had loved it, calling the power to his fingers to inspire awe in those around him, but then the power had been twisted. Once Ikithon had claimed him as his own, the demand for larger, more powerful flames had begun.</p><p>It had been in Bren’s curious nature to want to learn the more powerful spells. With each new spell came a rush of excitement and fulfillment, as learning was one of his favourite things in the world. But the demands for demonstrations from Ikithon became more and more brutal with time, until before Bren knew it he was being asked to make examples of dissenters. Often just the threat of the flame was enough to make them spill their secrets, but he had burned many a person.</p><p>And then there was the event that had sealed his fate in this tower: his graduation. The day that he’d done the unthinkable and killed his own parents, spurred on by Ikithon’s encouragements and the promises that they were enemies of the Empire. Part of Bren had broken and died that day, shattering Ikithon’s vision for him as a Volstrucker, an enforcer of the Empire.</p><p>But that isn’t to say that his usefulness died that day. Bren still had his fire, and so Ikithon kept him close. He was little more than a tool these days, brought out of the shed only when needed and locked away when his usefulness was exhausted.</p><p>As the sun kissed the horizon, Bren sighed deeply. Another day done, and no real reason for it. He had lost sight of what he had loved in life, of what his purpose had been, locked away in this tower. A group of birds took flight from the gardens below, and Bren found himself wishing not for the first time that he could turn into a bird and simply fly away from this place. Dropping his head onto his arms where they lay folded on the windowsill, he sighed again.</p><p>At first, he almost didn’t notice the whistle from the garden below. It sounded so much like a bird that Bren almost ignored it, but for the small part of his brain that reminded him that that particular birdsong was usually only heard in the morning. Sticking his head out of his window and leaning carefully over the stone sill, he peered down into the garden below.</p><p>In the fading sunlight it was hard to make out detail, but there was definitely a figure standing in the garden. Waving, even. Taken aback, Bren waved back, more out of muscle memory than conscious thought.</p><p>White teeth flashed at him as the figure smiled, then they moved to the base of the tower and took hold of the thick ivy vines there and began to climb. Bren was transfixed, unable to move or look away as they nimbly climbed the wall. When they were halfway up, he was able to make out enough detail to see that they were a tiefling with spiraling horns, tail tucked close to the wall for balance. Bren blinked owlishly down at them as they found footholds, and pinched himself.</p><p>It felt like a dream, but he was wide awake.</p><p>When the tiefling reached his window, Bren stumbled backwards onto the floor, staring at the head that popped over his sill. They were haloed in the deep red and violet tones of the fading sunset, accenting their purple skin and scarlet eyes. Two long legs swung into Bren’s room, and the tiefling beamed at him as they sat framed in his window.</p><p>“Err, hello?” Bren whispered, voice cracking from lack of use. Though he saw people most every day, he was expected not to speak unless spoken to. And as of late, he was generally not spoken to. His voice came out scratchy and high-pitched, and he couldn’t help but cringe at the sound.</p><p>“Hello!” the tiefling exclaimed, altogether too loud, and fear washed over Bren as he realized just how much trouble he could get in if he were caught with someone in his room. Perhaps seeing the fear on Bren’s face, they frowned a little and spoke more quietly. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m… fine.” said Bren, warily. He was still sitting on the floor, leaning back on his arms, and they throbbed dully with the pain of experiments not yet healed. He readjusted, scooting his legs up to hide his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees.</p><p>The tiefling laughed softly. “You certainly didn’t sound fine when I heard you sighing a moment ago, or the other night.”</p><p>Bren frowned, puzzled. The gardens were strictly off-limits to students after classes ended for the day, and weren’t open to the public at all. This tiefling certainly didn’t seem like a student of the Academy, with their bright coat and jangling jewelry, and by rights they ought not to have been able to observe Bren from the garden at all, let alone on consecutive nights.</p><p>“Who are you?” he asked, suddenly feeling very unwilling to share until he knew more about them.</p><p>With a flair, the tiefling bowed, tail lashing outside of the window to counterbalance their movement. The charms on their horns swung as they dipped their head, catching the last of the sunlight and glinting silver and gold. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service. Or Molly to my friends.” They extended a hand expectantly, and Bren stared for a moment at the ringed fingers before realizing what he was being offered. It had been years since he had been introduced to anyone by name, let alone offered a handshake. He took the proffered hand with a tentative grip, unsure of how hard one was supposed to squeeze, and allowed Mollymauk to shake their hands up and down a few times.</p><p>“And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”</p><p>Ah, right. The polite thing to do would be to introduce himself. It had been so long, and all his social skills had gone rusty. Bren rehearsed his answer in his head, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness, but found that hearing his name suddenly left a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p>It was a name that he only ever heard from Ikithon anymore, and when he tried to say it in his own mind, it was Ikithon’s voice that he heard, cold and cruel. Shaking the voice from his mind, he searched frantically for some other name to give. <em>Bren </em>meant fire, and fire was something that Bren had come to hate. It represented his imprisonment, the control that was held over him.</p><p>The first name that came to mind was Caleb. It had been the name of a man in one of his history books, a minor character compared to the kings and conquerors who filled the pages, but a brave man nonetheless. While fiction wasn’t ever allowed on his bookshelf, there were often works of history that described figures and exploits that lit a fire in Bren’s imagination. Bren wished he were brave.</p><p>“Caleb,” he responded after a moment. It was probably obvious that he had made the name up, but Mollymauk didn’t seem to mind. They gave him a smile and shook his hand a few more times before releasing it. Bren — Caleb — hadn’t even realized that they’d still been touching while he’d searched for a name.</p><p>“Pleasure to meet you, Caleb. Now, what’s got you so down that you’ve taken to sighing prettily out a window?”</p><p>Caleb bristled a little at the word ‘prettily.’ It was a word he’d heard all too often applied to himself when he was young, and one he’d rather never hear again. But Mollymauk couldn’t know that, and he wouldn’t hold it against them.</p><p>Really, he shouldn’t be talking to them at all. The punishment for this would certainly be corporal if he were caught, and probably worse than any of the canings he’d ever received in the past. But something about the tiefling made him want to. They were the first person to speak to him like an equal in years, after all, and they did seem so genuinely interested in him. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear and pulled his knees up higher.</p><p>“I’m a student here.”</p><p>“Homework, then?” Mollymauk did not sound convinced, and though Caleb couldn’t tell exactly where they were looking because of their red-on-red eyes, he swore that he saw them looking at the scars on his arms.</p><p>“Why were you in the gardens?” he deflected, pulling the sleeves of his nightgown down unsubtly to cover his arms. Mollymauk’s eyes definitely moved that time.</p><p>They slid forward from the windowsill, taking a seat on the floor across from Caleb with their legs crossed. He could see them better now that they were closer to the dim lamp light, and noted a multitude of fine scars across their chest. His arms itched in sympathy.</p><p>“Well, you know, when one’s in a city one has to see the sights,” they answered vaguely. “I heard that this place had the finest gardens in Rexxentrum and I just had to see them for myself. And maybe steal a flower or two.” They grinned, and opened their coat to reveal a handful of bright blooms tucked into an inner pocket.</p><p>Caleb couldn’t help but reach for one of the flowers, immediately drawn forward by awe. The petals looked so soft and delicate, something that he remembered only partially. Though his memory was good, it was still hard to remember something after many years. He had never appreciated flowers enough back then, and because of it his memory of them was imperfect. Mollymauk withdrew a bloom and pressed it into Caleb’s hand, fingers brushing against Caleb’s own.</p><p>Spinning the stem in his fingers, Caleb marveled in the detail of the bloom. He remembered that this was what roses looked like, but his memory didn’t do them justice. The petals were tightly folded, like so many layers of tissue paper, and even from this distance Caleb could smell the sweet scent of the bloom. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and remembering his Mutti’s rosebushes. When he came back to the present, Mollymauk was regarding him wistfully.</p><p>“I take it you don’t get out much, then?” Caleb shook his head, opting to look down at the rose in his hand rather than meet their eye.</p><p>“Not in many years,” he admitted, and then it all came spilling out. He told them about the lessons, the experiments, the fire. Before he knew it, he was wiping tears from his eyes, and Mollymauk was stroking the back of his hand which was still clutching the rose. The thorns pricked him, and Caleb realized that he’d been holding it with an iron grip. He relaxed his hand, and blood welled in his palm.</p><p>Mollymauk was looking at him with pity, and Caleb withdrew from the gaze, suddenly feeling too seen. Thankfully he was still curled with his knees tucked up to cover his chest, but those red eyes seemed like they saw much more than the average eyes.</p><p>“Why don’t you leave?” they asked eventually, still gently holding his hand. Caleb bit back a laugh that was half a sob.</p><p>“Where would I go?” he choked out. “I have no home, no family, no funds. Nothing but my magic, which can only harm.” The flame in the lamp flared as he sobbed, reacting as if to his words, but Molly didn’t seem to fear it. Tieflings were resistant to fire, Caleb’s brain supplied, that precise memory coming through even in this moment of emotion. “And they would never stop looking for me. Nowhere would be safe.”</p><p>“What if I told you there was a place for people who wanted to leave their pasts behind? For people who didn’t want to be found? A place to hide in plain sight, and be free and happy?”</p><p>Caleb sniffed. “I couldn’t believe it.”</p><p>Mollymauk gave him a sad smile. “Hard to believe when you’ve spent your whole life here, perhaps. But I’ve spent my whole life there, and it’s as real as anything.” They searched a pocket and withdrew a scrap of paper, dog-earred but otherwise smooth, and presented it to him. Caleb wiped the tears from his unoccupied hand and took it, inspecting the simple inscription.</p><p><em>The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities, </em> it read. <em>An all-ages show of story, song, dance, and performances beyond your wildest imagination! Come see the Knot sisters, Orna the Fire Faerie, and the vivid voice of Toya, the Devil Toad Tamer! 5cp, sundown, at the Big Tent.</em></p><p>Caleb had never been to a carnival, but while he was still allowed to go out in Rexxentrum he had seen one from a distance. That Molly was carnival folk just made sense, really, given their wild dress of many patterns and colours. Their trousers even looked like they could have been made out of extra tent fabric, motley on one leg and stripes on the other.</p><p>“You can be whoever you want to be with us. We move around, never in one place long enough for anyone to recognize you. The whole crew is made of people who reinvented themselves, myself included. To let you in on a little secret, I’ve only been Mollymauk Tealeaf for ‘round about two years.”</p><p>“Who were you before?”</p><p>“No bloody idea. But I’m Molly now, and nobody has ever called me otherwise, so I can attest to just how faceless you can be as a carnie. Should you want to get away from this place, Caleb, I can promise you that there’s somewhere you can go.”</p><p>Caleb smoothed the paper out with his thumb. “I wish that I could, but there’s no way out of here. The door is locked from the outside, and the whole tower is guarded.”</p><p>Molly smirked, and their tail flicked mischievously behind them. “The entire<em> inside</em> of the tower may be guarded, but I assure you that the outside isn’t.” As if to illustrate their point, they brandished a hand at their own presence in the room. “If I can climb up, you can certainly climb down.”</p><p>Caleb looked the tiefling up and down, noting the wiry muscles beneath their shirt. His own body was not so fit. He had always been a willowy child, and the neglect and lack of activity he’d endured in the past years had only served to whittle him away to a thinness that bordered on unhealthy. Some days he struggled even to climb the stairs back to his room at the end of a day of working with Ikithon — there was no way he could climb down the stone exterior of the tower. Not without falling. He handed the flier back.</p><p>“Many times I have dreamed of leaving this place, Mollymauk, but it is simply not possible. I cannot climb so easily as you, and you don’t seem like the type who would be strong enough to carry me.”</p><p>“True, that. A shame. But you’re a wizard, aren’t you? Couldn’t you just—” Mollymauk made a gesture like a small explosion with their hands “—and appear somewhere else?”</p><p>A dark laugh bubbled in Caleb’s throat, escaping before he could stop it. “Ikithon would never allow that,” he lamented. “He only teaches me fire spells, and controls when I can cast them. I am only given an arcane focus when he wants… wants me to…” He couldn’t finish the thought. Admitting what he had to do was too painful.</p><p>Mollymauk, it seemed, was an optimist, and they continued to try to find a solution to Caleb’s problem. Caleb was in awe of them, dropping everything to help a total stranger, and one who’d admitted to being a murderer at that.</p><p>“Can you cast without the focus? The carnival has a small-time arcanist, and he can do tricks with things like a little bit of fleece, or a tart.”</p><p>Caleb went through his spells mentally, noting the scant few that either did not require components or that had components that could be found in the room. “I could perhaps make you do something for about six seconds, or launch a book very far into the air, but nothing that would take me from this place. As much as I dream about turning into a bird and flying away from here, it is not something I can do. All I can do is burn things.”</p><p>Molly gave him an appraising look and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s all you can do? You seem like someone who wants strongly to change things, and I sense that you would have the power to do it if you put your mind to it. Fire isn’t all destruction, you know. You may not have seen it locked away up here, but I’ve seen forests where life thrives because of the fires. They clear away the dead underbrush that’s choking everything out and make room for new growth. Maybe that’s the kind of fire you wield. Or could, if you wanted to.”</p><p>Try as he might, Caleb could not imagine what Molly described. In his mind’s eye, the fire destroyed everything in the forest, then spread to the fields, the villages, the people… he shoved the image away. “Thank you for your confidence, Mollymauk, but I do not think that I have the capacity for it.”</p><p>The tiefling’s face fell, and Caleb felt a pang of guilt. He had enjoyed their company so much this night, and now he had gone and ruined the mood of the one person who had talked to him as an equal in years. “Maybe so, Mister Caleb,” they said, “but remember that anyone can change if they want to.” They placed a hand on his, squeezing softly so that he wouldn’t prick himself on the rose again. “I ought to be going before I’m missed, but know that as long as you can see the big tent in town, there’s a place for you. We’ll be here a few days yet, and happy to have you.”</p><p>Caleb’s stomach roiled as Mollymauk moved to depart. They had only been together for a few scant hours, but already Caleb didn’t know if he could live without the comfort they provided. He felt more real than he had in a decade or more, looked at by another person as he wanted to be seen. Cared for, even. Panic rose in his throat as Mollymauk stood and adjusted their coat, and tears burned at the back of his eyes.</p><p>He raised the hand that clutched the rose, offering it back to Molly, closing his eyes as he braced himself for the loss of his final tether to the outside world. But instead, a hand closed around his own, curling his fingers around the stem more securely.</p><p>“No, love, this is for you. Something beautiful from outside, to give you hope.” Caleb opened his eyes, now swimming with tears, and looked down at the blood red petals in his hand. The colour suddenly reminded him of Mollymauk, being similar to the colour of their eyes and the intricate maroon coat that they wore. He clutched the rose to his chest.</p><p>“Thank you, Mollymauk. For everything.”</p><p>Molly crouched on the windowsill, one leg already dangling outside on a foothold. “You’re very welcome, Caleb. I hope that one day you’re able to find the freedom you deserve.” And then they were descending, moving from handhold to handhold with the nimbleness of an acrobat. Caleb moved to the window to watch them go, holding back a sob as they reached the ground and turned to look up at him.</p><p>He waved down, and they waved back at him, slowly and sadly, waiting a moment before turning to stalk through the moonlit grounds of the Academy’s gardens. Caleb watched them retreat, touching the silky soft petals of the rose that he clutched with shaking hands.</p><p>The rose was a poor souvenir for Mollymauk’s visit. Beautiful though it was, it could not compare to the momentary happiness they’d brought him. Caleb turned it in his fingers, avoiding the thorns and inspecting every detail, trying to commit the bloom to memory. It would of course wither and dry quickly, if it was not found and confiscated first. He would have to find a suitable hiding place.</p><p>One of the leaves caught his eye as he turned the flower. Lifting it revealed a tiny cocoon attached to the underside, probably left by an inchworm or some other small creature. The empty husk had been left behind when the moth emerged and took flight, the only reminder of its previous form.</p><p>
  <em>Remember, Mister Caleb, that anyone can change if they want to.</em>
</p><p>Caleb pulled the tiny cocoon from the leaf, careful not to crush it. Molly’s words echoed in his mind, and he felt a surge of resolve. He would get out of here. He had to. He couldn’t live like this anymore, not after getting a taste of the world beyond.</p><p>He stepped to the window and looked out, just barely able to make out Mollymauk in the moonlight by the glint of the charms on their horns. Giving a small prayer to whichever god would listen, he focused on the form he wished to take and crushed the cocoon between his hands.</p><p>The rush of magic was immediate, resonating from his fingertips down his arms and through his body. The world shifted as his form changed, and when he blinked he saw the world from the perspective of a small bird. Everything felt huge, and the sky seemed infinite. Only able to understand things as a bird might, instinct took over and Caleb dove into the air, his focus reduced only to one thing: find Mollymauk.</p><p>Flying was a surreal sensation. The world whipped by at a high speed below him as he soared on a current of air, gliding down from the window without so much as a beat of his wings. If not for the limitations of his avian body, he would have cried with joy. He wove between ornamental fruit trees and topiary hedges, searching for the flash of silver and gold that he knew heralded the movement of his new and only friend.</p><p>When he saw them, he sang a quiet song. It was the same one that Mollymauk had used that evening to catch his attention, oddly enough, a soft trilling that one normally only heard in the morning as the birds warmed up their voices for the day. It felt foreign coming from Caleb, but Mollymauk stopped walking and turned at once when they heard him. He landed on one of their horns, the curved tip at just the right height for them to be able to see him out of the corner of their eye.</p><p>“Well hello again,” they said, and Caleb could only barely grasp what the words meant. They raised a hand, offering a finger near his feet, and Caleb hopped from horn to hand. They smiled at him and gently stroked the feathers on his belly with a finger, and Caleb couldn’t help but puff up his feathers at the attention. He felt safe.</p><p>Mollymauk looked up at his tower window, now empty, and then back at Caleb. “Let’s get you out of here,” they said, and Caleb chirped in return. Molly carried him through the streets of Rexxentrum, occasionally giving him a little pet, cradling him close to their body to protect him from onlookers.</p><p>The city was more beautiful than Caleb could have imagined, down at street level. There were so many lights and faces and smells that he was overwhelmed, and thankful that he was being carried. The two of them wove through side streets until they reached a large park area, and in the distance a collection of tents rippled in the breeze.</p><p>Caleb could feel the pull that heralded the end of the spell, and he hopped from Molly’s finger to revert back to his human shape. Molly exclaimed in shock at the suddenness of it, then laughed and stabilized Caleb by the arm as he teetered on his now unfamiliar two feet.</p><p>“I knew you had it in you.” They slipped their arm through his to walk him the rest of the way to the tents.</p><p>The camp was quiet, the show evidently long over, but a few people sat drinking around a fire. Molly led them to the fire and pulled up a seat for Caleb, waving for him to sit down.</p><p>“Everyone, this is Caleb. Say hello.”</p><p>A chorus of hellos and small waves came from around the fire, but not a single question about who Caleb was or where he’d come from. He relaxed at that, finally starting to believe what Molly had told him about being able to become a new person in this place.</p><p>Molly sat down beside him and handed him a mug of mulled wine, planting a kiss to the top of his head as they did so.</p><p>“Welcome home, Mister Caleb.”</p><p>And for the first time in may years, Caleb felt that he had a place.</p>
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